


Doctor Robert

by gandalfthesassy



Series: The Monkees Reader-Inserts [2]
Category: The Monkees, The Monkees (TV)
Genre: Cute, First Shared Kiss, Fluff, I can't tell them apart anymore, I kind of half-remember it, I've been binging this fucking show for three days straight, Mad Scientist, Multi, based vaguely on the Halloween episode...I think, evil scientist
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-17
Updated: 2017-03-17
Packaged: 2018-10-06 18:03:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10341210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gandalfthesassy/pseuds/gandalfthesassy
Summary: "The last thing you remember is hearing the others talking about how they’d get out of this creepy manor--but someone hit something upside your head and you lost the rest of it."You wake up in the manor of a crazed scientist. You've got to save your friends, but will you avoid getting caught by the sadistic Dr. Robert, and will you find the love of your life?Gender neutral reader, neutral pronouns and all that. (y/n) means your name, or what you go by. Rated T for swearing and descriptions of weapons and blood.





	

The last thing you remember is hearing the others talking about how they’d get out of this creepy manor--but someone hit something upside your head and you lost the rest of it.

You woke, thankfully, in your well-furnished bedroom, an out-of-the-way guest room in this giant, old-world mansion. A few moments later, you hear walking feet and a hushed conversation between your host and his assistant.

“But Dr. Robert, the Monkees don’t have what we’re looking for,” the assistant stage-whispered in her cute little voice. You imagined her hair and lab coat bouncing as she walked, as it had when you met her. You grabbed the glass you’d been given from your earlier near-faint spell and pressed it--and your ear--to the wall. “I’m telling you, if you really want the girl monster to be _a person_ , you might as well get (y/n).” She seemed to mean it, but not as much as she had earlier, when she’d made that off-hand comment that the five of you (you and the Monkees) would _die_ when you saw what this manor had to offer.

“(y/n) won’t suffice,” whispered the doctor, who you’d pegged immediately as dishonest and creepy. Micky had been running his mouth off earlier that evening about how you all should go back, and for once you agreed--but no one listened to you, especially not Mike. “We need the combined talent--and vaguely feminine mannerisms--of those boys.” You clenched your free fist. It was _always_ about experiments when the Monkees were invited. The footsteps faded in the other direction, and you couldn’t hear another word.

As quietly as possible, you put on your slippers and slung a blanket over your back and shoulders. You took a moment to lean against one wall between some pictures, thinking how in the hell you’d find the others when you didn’t even know where _you_ were in relation to everything else.

Something clicked underneath your head in the wall. You jumped back just in time as the section of wall you’d leaned up against suddenly revolved until it was half-open, revealing a secret passageway. A chill ran through you, and you searched the room hurriedly for a match. You found some in your coat pocket, so you stepped into the passageway, lit a match, and held it before you as you went in.

Halfway down the passage, an old lantern on the ground flickered with light. You put out your match, discarding the evidence in the shadows in a hole in the wall. You picked the lantern up only to discover its flame was _blue_ , not orange. Still, it seemed to be casting more light than your match, so you held it before you and continued.

The sudden scream of someone you knew drew your attention. You rushed to the end of the corridor, leaving your lantern at the cracked door, and pushed through. But the moment you emerged into a different room, long before you could react, the assistant turned from where she was mixing...something...and gasped. You held your hands in front of you defensively.

“I’m sorry, Miss Mina,” you spoke up, “I-I just have a natural instinct, you see? I didn’t know--”

“(y/n), it’s alright, you just startled me,” she told you, her voice not quite as chipper as it had been before. You stepped towards her a few steps.

“I didn’t mean it.”

“No, of course not. You’re harmless.”

“If I’m harmless, then why am I here? You invited the Monkees, but when I turned up, you insisted that I stay. Am I special?” She stared at you, words on the tip of her tongue.

“I...have a confession to make. You seem nice enough, (y/n). You won’t tell, will you?” You shook your head mutely. “Well, I’m not really the assistant. I mean, the girly thing is sort of _me,_ but I play it up. You’ve seen movies, I assume. So I figured the best way to get you all to trust me was to be a _girl_. You understand, don’t you?"

“Sure, but were you gonna use _me_ in an experiment?”

“The doctor was. I’m sorry, darling, we had to. A person like you only comes along so often, he said. So well-rounded, so well-adjusted…”

“So well-bred?” you guessed. She blinked. “That’s how my mom introduces me to her friends.”

“Oh. Well, the ‘doctor’ you met is really my assistant--I’m Dr. Mina Crash--but I think he means to harm your friends. He’s been acting like he really _is_ a mad doctor. I couldn’t stop him, so he told me to stay in this room until he called for me.”

“That’s awful. You’re more qualified than he is.”

“Much more! But he’s bigger than me…and you too, dear, I don’t know if--”

“If I could take him?” you finished for her. “I didn’t mention the end of the big guy in the alley story at dinner.”

“Oh yes, you kept dodging him, but then...you never finished.”

“I punched his guts and got out of there. A few cuts, that’s all.”

“So you _could_ stand up to Dr. Robert!” she rushed to you, grabbing your arm.

“I’d rather not fight him, but of course I would, if only to help you get your manor back and let you complete your experiment.”

“Oh the girl monster wasn’t my idea. I wanted to reanimate a poor stray dog that was struck by lightning a few weeks ago and died on my front porch.”

“That’s awful,” you told her, “about the dead dog. But I’ll help you get back to your experiments if you help me save my friends and get out alive.”

“I can only point the way,” Dr. Crash admitted sadly. “If he suspects something’s amiss, he’ll--”

The fumbling of a key in the door behind you startled her into silence.

“(y/n), there’s a hidden path in that passageway,” she spoke quickly and quietly, “a few steps from this entrance. It should lead you to your friends. Good luck.” You thanked her and disappeared into the passage just as the door opened. You swept up the lantern and found the secret pathway.

Not long after, you ran up against what looked like the back of a vault door. You knew there was no good way to open it from this side, and you were no weightlifter. But a brief investigation of the wall found a lever, which you promptly pulled.

The vault door creaked open, and you emerged into an off-white sterile room covered in crazy scientific contraptions, chiefest of which was one of those nearly straight-up tables with people strapped by their ankles and wrists. The one strapped in didn’t stir even when your venture into the room kicked a discarded ray gun on the ground. This feels like the prop room to a B-movie, you realized as you got closer to whoever was on the table.

You looked up at the face to recognize none other than Mike Nesmith, whose fault it was for you all being there anyway.

You considered leaving him there. After all, you and Micky were right! This place _was_ crawling with creeps, and you thought they’d been through this kind of crazy thing before. And you’d been right, and you hadn’t, but you’d seen enough movies to know when something was up.

But you couldn’t. Truth was, you cared about him, probably more than platonically (you hadn’t sat down and sorted it through formally). First of all, you had to see if he was still alive. He looked pinkish, as he’d looked while conscious, and his chest rose and fell. _Phew_. You glanced around for something that might do the job of getting him out. On the side of the table, very tiny (but distinct) buttons raised from the surface. You pressed the one whose label read “Wake/Sleep.” Immediately, he shot awake, looking around. You stepped in front of him.

“Hey Mike, what’s happening?” you asked casually.

“Not much, how’re you?” he returned, shaking off his grogginess. You shrugged and pressed the ‘release’ button. As he suddenly tumbled forward, you managed to catch him--and it was in that moment you remembered how nice his touch was, his hand on your arm, grasping for you and your touch--

You had to get them out.

“Come on, Mike,” you insisted, “the assistant’s actually the good doctor, and the ‘doctor’ man wants you all for parts.”

“Where do we go?” he got all the way to his feet, looking around.

“I hadn’t thought that far ahead yet.”

“(y/n), come on, we gotta get out of here! If he really just wants us all for parts, we can’t just stay here.”

“You’re right. He’ll be back at any minute.”

Mike was already pressing his ears to the walls, searching for something. “Wait a minute,” he stopped. He pointed at where you came in. “We could just go back through there.”

“No, no, he’ll know I was there,” you told him, “and he’ll come after us.”

“Then what exactly are we gonna do?” he threw up his hands.

“Look, man, I just woke up like ten minutes ago, I’m surprised I made it this far without getting caught.”

“You won’t make it any farther,” boomed a voice from somewhere out of sight. You both turned to a doorway--how had you not seen that door before?--where Dr. Robert glowered. He drew a machete from behind his back, caked in some unfortunate test subject’s blood, and chuckled darkly. “You two really think you’ll leave with everything intact?” He advanced on you, and you stepped in front of Mike defensively as the two of you backed up.

“Well, not, n-not everything,” Mike shrugged, “I think I still have a few fucks left. Oh no, wait, they floated away. My mistake.”

“I hope you aren’t too attached to your organs,” Dr. Robert grinned with harshly whitened teeth. “I need them more than you do.”

“You’re out of luck, Doctor,” you projected your voice and it filled every corner of the room. “I’m one of those organ donors. You know, every time you get in an accident, you donate your organs."

“I thought that was when you died,” the doctor narrowed his eyes.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m a...I’m a walking, talking zombie!” You did your best impression of some combination of a zombie and Frankenstein’s monster.

“(y/n), he has a giant fuckin’ knife,” Mike’s voice cracked.

“Shut _up_ , Mike,” you hissed, “I’ll think of something.”

“You better think quickly, (y/n),” the doctor grimaced and came so close that he pressed the sharp edge of the blade against your throat. “Submit your body and it’ll be painless, or don’t, and face the consequences.”

“Painless? How do you expect to live up to that claim?”

The machete eased its pressure on your neck. “I use anaesthesia. I’m not entirely unethical. Not enough to kill you, but enough to knock you out cold.”

“Oh, which one? When I was working with animals as apprentice to a veterinarian, we used the, uh...what’s it called, what’s it called…”

“Local?”

“Yeah! No, that’s not the real formula, but you get what I mean.” You’d lied through your teeth, and Mike’s hand fidgeting in your own told you he knew. But the doctor nodded in affirmation.

“I’ve got my own.” Suddenly he rushed over to a nearby table. “I’ve been modifying the one I have right now.” You and Mike exchanged a glance. “Trying to make it viable for women has been tough…”

“You know, you don’t have to modify it based on gender,” you snuck over to the table where Dr. Robert had begun to fiddle intently with a series of test tubes.

“But surely, men and women have different biological builds, no?"

“We’re all built from the same materials, Doctor.” You glanced around, spotting a syringe stuck in a little vial of liquid. “They just get formed in different combinations. Besides, there are bigger differences between people based on age and weight than there are between men and women.” As discreetly as you could, you checked the label. From the effects described, you guessed it was the formula the doctor had attempted to change.

“Well, that certainly blows a hole in half my life’s work. And here I thought I was gonna make a big discovery.”

“There’s still money in gender science.”

“There is?”

“Yeah,” you confirmed, drawing the liquid into the syringe and hiding it. “You can make a great living now, writing about how men’s and women’s brains are different.”

“But I thought you said they weren’t.”

“Their _bodies_ aren’t literally different,” you looked back at Mike, who began to creep up on him. “But they act different, yeah? Lots of scientists nowadays are explaining gender through science."

“Oh, while you’re here, could you pass me the extra stuff in that bottle?”

“No.”

He turned slowly to you. Mike’s eyes filled with terror. “What do you mean? What have you got behind your back?”

“Our way out.” Quick as a flash, you stabbed him directly in the first vein you spotted, in his neck. Dr. Robert flailed in surprise as Mike hooked his arms underneath his shoulders and swept him around until the doctor passed out.

Mike dropped him with absolutely no grace and ran to hug you. You froze at the sensation of much of his body suddenly against yours, but you held him tightly back, and he squeezed you.

“I was so scared,” he murmured into your hair. “All I could think o-of, when the doctor got you, y-you were fighting back so hard but he was so _cruel_ to you. It ain’t right.”

“No, it’s not,” you agreed. “But I’m okay, I got myself out. And you’re okay. I think. _Are_ you okay?” He pulled away, but the two of you stayed locked together, afraid of not being in contact.

“Yeah. Thank you for savin’ me, I appreciate it.”

“Of course. Anything for a beauty. I mean, best friend. _Shit_ ,” you muttered the last word under your breath. But Mike’s eyes had gone distant. You waved one hand in front of his eyes. “Yoo-hoo! You okay?” He nodded, returning to the moment. He gazed at you, but you couldn’t tell why he was...

“I think it just occurred to me how precious our lives are. And I don’ know if we’ll make it out alive, but if we don’t, I gotta tell you somethin’.” He’d gone somber, even _more_ somber than normal Mike. But instead of listening politely like a sensitive, cool person, you made fun of the moment.

“What, are you in love with me?” you turned up a corner of your mouth. He started to say something, but he huffed and pulled away. “Wait, are you? I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make fun of you.”

“Oh, you _didn’t_ , huh? We might die in this place and you still gotta make jokes! I’m just a man, standing in front of my dearest friend--”

“Michael.” You cupped his face in your hands, sending a chill down his spine. You coaxed his lips to yours, taking him in your arms, and he nearly fainted on top of you. You pulled away, the faint trace of a smile dancing on your lips. “I’m in love with you. I just wasn’t sure you’d like me back.”

“You’re a pretty, pretty good kisser, (y/n),” he spluttered. He pointed weakly to your mouth, then to his. “Can, can we--”

“Later, once we get out,” you promised, leaving a kiss on his cheekbone. You looked at him, and he looked at you, savoring the sight of one another for a moment.

“We have the strangest interactions, don’t we,” he giggled, his head dipping downward bashfully. His eyelashes fluttered, and your heart did too.

“May they never cease,” you chirped, taking his hand and guiding him to the door, hunting for the others so you could spend some time alone, without the threat of mad science dampening the mood.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm trash. I'm working on a Peter/Reader as well--stay tuned. :-)


End file.
